


Tales of the West

by Anart617



Category: Showdown Bandit (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Canon Divergence, Game Theories, Gen, Mystery, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-10-21 08:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anart617/pseuds/Anart617
Summary: Gather 'round, boys and girls! Tonight we have a special show for you all, The Showdown Bandit Show! Starring all of your favorites: Miss Undertaker, The Banker, Doc Carver, and Penny Hemsworth; not to mention the star of the show himself, Showdown Bandit! Prepare for adventures and mystery as the gang find themselves in all sorts of perils, and how they manage to esca--esca--esca--(No escape.)--wrestle their way out of this one! Because as the saying goes, the show must always go on.





	1. A Brand New Day

**Author's Note:**

> Not the best summary, but I tried. (lol)
> 
> Anyways, so the game Showdown Bandit just came out--at least, the first chapter of it, and boy is it off to a promising start! I've been excited for this game ever since it was first announced earlier this year and it did not disappoint. I'm excited to see what Kindly Beast has in store for the game in the future. 
> 
> Now, this work is a series of one-shots of ideas I had whilst playing the game. They're not necessarily going to be canon (thus the canon divergence tag I put up) but I still think they're interesting enough to write down. Some of them will follow the course of the game, stuff that was clearly depicted but with a bit of a spin on it. Others will only be loosely based on the game, and some might just be things I think up in the future that have nothing to do with it.
> 
> In short, this is just a little area in which I lay down my ideas and theories about this game but in a narrative form. I hope you all enjoy them and if you have your own theories about the game or any constructive criticism, please let me know in the comments below.
> 
> Now, if I haven't bored you to death already (lol), let us start the show!

A Brand New Day

Showdown Bandit woke up in a tight, cramped spot. It was quite uncomfortable, and he couldn't recall having fall asleep; nor did he recognize where he was. Some sort of solid material was enclosed around him, like a little room, only the size of a locker. A crack had been forged, likely unintentionally, in the wall ahead of him, and light fell through. He squinted and leaned forward as much as he could, but could see little more than vague shapes beyond his little enclosure despite the light provided to him.

Then a voice called out, and he recognized it immediately. It was one of his good old friends, Miss Undertaker, who ran the graveyard and made sure the dead were all in check and not ravaging through town. It was a questionable occupation to most, but Bandit thought it unique. Besides, Miss Undertaker may run a graveyard and come off as sly and mysterious, but once you got to know her she was quite genial, and she did keep the town safe to an extent. Plus, she'd helped Bandit out of plenty of sticky situations, and he owed her for that.

He listened and watched through the crack as she appeared in his view. She was slightly crouched, apparently calling out to someone. Likely some troublesome varmint.

(Something about her tone unsettled him.)

Bandit shook the thought from his head as quickly as it entered. Miss Undertaker, unsettling? What was the matter with him? He must still be groggy from his nap--the one he didn't remember taking--to think like that. It was most unlike him.

As he was sorting himself out, Miss Undertaker had disappeared from view. Bandit opened his mouth to call after her, but just then she reappeared, staring in at him through the crack.

"Oh my, it's...you!" she said, sounding mighty surprised but also pleased. "Well that is something. Let's get you out of that box and out into the light."

Ah, so this was a box. She wrenched open the box with both of her hands and opened the wall ahead of him--which he now saw was a lid. How foolish of him to not have realized, nor recognized his own box. Light spilled in, and Bandit squinted his eyes a little to adjust.

Miss Undertaker took a good look at him and raised a hand to her chin. "Oh my dear! Sure as my name is Lauralel Undertaker! I didn't mean to drag you up here on purpose...but, if you're here, then it must be what he wants."

_He?_ Who was "he"? Was Bandit supposed to know this person? He wracked his memory but couldn't recall. How odd. Also odd was another thing Miss Undertaker had just said: What did she mean by dragging him up here, and not on purpose? There must be something he was forgetting, but what was it? He opened his mouth to ask, but Miss Undertaker cut him off before he could speak.

"Either way, I suppose we best get going. The show must go on."

She began to walk away and out of sight.

"Wait!" Bandit called out to her, struggling to pull himself out of his box. He lost his balance and fell forward on hands and knees. Something...something didn't feel right. Miss Undertaker was gone. She'd been acting a bit more peculiar than usual, and while that wouldn't normally cause him any alarm, coupling that with Bandit's inability to remember certain things--things that seemed _important_, somehow--made him uneasy. Not to mention how she'd just up and vanished. The doors weren't anywhere close enough for her to get to so quickly....

Through this haze of thoughts came a sharp tug on his right arm. Bandit looked up and saw a string attached to his right arm joint; a string that hadn't been there before. "What in tarnation?" he mumbled, pulling at the string, but it refused to give. Another tug on his left arm, and when he looked he saw another string. What were these doing here, and where had they come from? Something about them didn't feel right.

He pulled against them as hard as he could, but to no avail. The strings were held taut by some invisible (or _unseen_) force, much stronger than he was. More of them came, attaching themselves to his legs and hat. And then he was lifted off the floor and a series of flashing lights assaulted his eyes and mind. Pain shot through his limbs, and he couldn't think at all. All of those worrisome thoughts, about things being wrong with his friend, with himself, vanished.

Showdown Bandit blinked his eyes open and found himself standing in front of his opened box. What was he doing? Ah, yes. Miss Undertaker had freed him from his temporary confinement and was now leading him onward to the next room. She wanted to tell him some things, some important things, but he wasn't sure what yet. Ah, well. Standing here dawdling wasn't going to help him learn anything anytime soon.

He began walking, feeling more sure about his destination and purpose than he'd ever had before. It was like someone had painted simple instructions inside of his head, so bright that he could see them even when his eyes weren't closed: Keep walking, listen to Miss Undertaker, and do as she says. And of course he'd do as she said; she was his trusted friend after all. No reason to feel uneasy at all, no sirree.

Behind him, his box sat abandoned, and from above it a trail of whispers faintly echoed.


	2. Faceless

He first appeared in a swirl of fog and gray. Bandit recognized him from the posters he'd seen plastered on the walls. The Faceless Bandit. He couldn't recall such a character having ever been on his show. Maybe sometime during his slumber the other bandit had been added to the cast. (Though that made little to no sense, he chose to ignore it for now.)

The other bandit wore a dark heavy cloak draped over his shoulders; one hand was wrapped around the handle of a scythe, crudely made but powerful looking. His face was mostly hidden in the shadow of his overlarge hat, but Bandit could see claw marks had destroyed his wooden features, so it was impossible to tell the identity of the stranger by appearance alone. The Faceless Bandit seemingly came out of nowhere--

<strike>(Reminding him of someone else from earlier.)</strike>

\--but that was impossible. People didn't just appear and disappear, especially from nowhere. Still, Bandit couldn't quiet the sense of unease he got by looking at the mysterious figure. Instinct told him to hide the moment the other appeared, and he'd ducked behind a wooden wall. It proved to be a smart idea, because there was another puppet in the vicinity: a simple figure wearing nothing, wielding only its bare hands and casting a blank yet somehow threatening expression at the sudden intruder. The puppet had launched itself at the other bandit, the latter of which barely looking over as he swung his scythe in the puppet's direction, sending pieces of it everywhere.

Bandit had to suppress a gasp of horror. Sure, he was a bandit, himself, but he was more of a vigilante than villain; a lawless hero who, despite the sheriff's obvious misgivings about himself and his gang, nevertheless got the job done bringing in those who stirred up trouble. Like this fellow right here. But this other bandit, he was different from anyone Showdown had ever seen before. He carried about him an aura of malice, and the scythe combined with the dark clothing and sinister nature gave Bandit a vague impression of a mortal Grim Reaper.

He shook himself out of these dismaying thoughts. Whatever and whomever this fiend might be, it was Bandit's duty to stop those who threatened others with their mischief and trouble-making. He had to take this varmint down, no matter the cost.

He waited until the other bandit's back was turned to him. Then, before he could take more than a few steps, Bandit launched himself at him.

The Faceless Bandit turned just before Showdown could strike him with a bullet from his gun--his reaction was fast; Faceless ducked away from the bullet, which clanged against the wall behind him. Showdown reeled it in as quickly as it could, but he was too slow. The other bandit was already swinging his scythe at him; Bandit was forced to move out of the way. The scythe cut the string attaching the bullet to his gun, and he scowled; his weapon was worthless now, unless he used the handle to beat his enemy senseless. But somehow he knew that his foe was too cunning for such an attack. He needed something else.

The Faceless Bandit took another swing at him; he rolled to the side, the edge of the scythe tearing through the fabric of his shirt and barely scraping his arm. He hissed in both surprise and pain, but the scratch was nothing. He stood up and looked around for a more sizeable weapon, but there was nothing around. He ground his teeth. He couldn't just run from this guy! It would go against everything he stood for.

But before he could make the ultimate decision, The Faceless Bandit made it for him. While he was distracted, the other bandit came up to him and knocked him upside the head with the handle of the scythe, knocking him to the ground. His vision wavered, and all he could see was a blurry figure above him. The other bandit raised the scythe over his head, preparing to deliver the final blow.

_No! _Sudden determination overwhelmed Showdown, and he rolled over, barely avoiding the strike. He got up and grabbed the handle of the scythe, his hands brushing against the others'. A growl of impatience came from the latter, and the two of them engaged in a fierce tug-of-war. The other bandit obviously had the upper hand; he was much stronger, but Showdown knew how to distract him, having had it done to himself many times before by both friend and foe, either to distract or to tease him--sometimes both.

He snatched out a hand and flipped The Faceless Bandit's hat over his own face.

The Faceless Bandit reeled back in shock, giving Showdown the leverage he needed. He kicked the other bandit in the stomach, causing him to stumble back several paces. Faceless scrambled to put on his hat, but Showdown knocked him down with the end of the scythe's handle. The hat flew out of his grip and fluttered to the floor a few feet away. The Faceless Bandit glared up at him, somehow succeeding without a face.

Showdown's grip on the scythe loosened. He almost lost it entirely. He just couldn't stop staring at the other bandit. Something seemed familiar about it; eerily familiar. He couldn't put his finger on it until he saw the way the other's hair was combed. He remembered seeing hair like that on the other end of the mirror, every day before going out on another adventure.

"Impossible," he muttered to himself, and blinked twice, refusing to believe what he'd just seen. His mind was playing tricks on him.

Faceless took his advantage. He sprang up and knocked Showdown to the ground, taking his scythe back from him. Showdown groaned and squinted up at him, and was vaguely relieved to see that the other bandit looked just as mysterious and unfamiliar as he had before. _Stupid tricks of the mind,_ he thought, but that hardly mattered anymore, now that he was about to die.

The two of them stared at each other in a heavy silence. It was only a few seconds, but to Showdown it lasted for an eternity. A small part of him wondered how The Faceless Bandit was able to see without eyes.

The other bandit tilted his head, but instead of ending Showdown's life, he took up his hat and propped it back on his head. He regarded Bandit coolly one more time before turning on his heel. There was a flash of smoke and light, and the gray returned to its dull aged color of before.

He was gone.

Showdown sat up, rubbing his arm where he had been scratched earlier. Why was he spared? Hadn't the other bandit been determined to kill him? Why give up so suddenly? More importantly, who was he, and why, for even a brief moment, had he looked like--

He shook his head again and stood up. No matter who he was, or his reasonings for leaving rather than finishing the job of killing Showdown, The Faceless Bandit was a clear threat. He'd killed that other puppet without a second thought. He would do it again, and had likely already done it before. He was something to be taken down, but not today. Not until Showdown got a proper weapon at least.

Showdown tapped the remains of his ruined weapon, which he'd holstered. Perhaps The Banker knew of someone who could repair or make new weapons. That would certainly be welcome in uncertain territory like this, and if that other bandit ever returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I operated under this theory of mine that The Faceless Bandit you sometimes encounter (as it seems he spawns at random, though thankfully not too often ^^') is in fact a previous version of Showdown Bandit.
> 
> The first detail that tipped me off was one of the times he appeared in a room, and while I was trying to get to the next room to avoid being killed by him, I caught a glimpse of his hair, and it looked oddly similar to Showdown Bandit's. I got another few looks at it and it definitely looks like his, albeit a different color.
> 
> Second, when you start the game there are other opened boxes that look like the one you emerge from. They're all the same color and they all have "Showdown Bandit" printed on the side. So what does this mean? Is there more than one version of Bandit, and even of the other characters? They are puppets after all, so if something goes wrong with the original (like, if it gets damaged) then it can always be replaced with another, identical-looking puppet.
> 
> Which led me to this thought: A message that states "Beware the Stringless". You die when Bandit loses all of his strings, and those without strings attack you (with the exception of Penny). Faceless Bandit is also stringless. What if the "stringless" are like that because they've obeyed one of the three rules: "Don't Look Up". Based on what Penny said about losing her eyes after doing so (which I'll delve into deeper in a later chapter), it can be safely deduced that those who've looked up have been driven mad by the realization of what's really governing their world--hence the stringless. They're puppets who have opted out of their strings but are now driven mad and senseless with the crushing weight of their reality.
> 
> The Faceless Bandit is similar to them, but I think he's at least more aware than they are. For one, he seems much more powerful, able to take you down in a single hit rather than the usual five. He also hunts other targets besides your character, which marks him as rogue. But what I think based on all the knowledge we have of the game (which is admittedly very little) and what I've already related, is that The Faceless Bandit is a previous version of our Showdown Bandit. What's to say that there wasn't one before ours that disobeyed and looked up, and was then driven to madness and subsequently replaced--by us.
> 
> Of course, Miss Undertaker at the beginning of the game addresses you as Bandit and seems pretty confident that you are--but she could be lying. Or she could not know. It sounds like she's following someone else's orders, a "He". She could be aware of what's really going on, but then again, she might not.
> 
> There's a lot more of this game to come and unlock, so this theory may turn out to be null and void. But it's my take on The Faceless Bandit, and I hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know what you think about it in the comments if you'd like, and your own theories on who this mysterious character might be, if you have any. ^^


	3. The Banker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "D-d'you ever wonder what our s-strings are attached to up there?"

Bandit hadn't been wandering for long, but already he was lost. This place looked completely different from the last time he'd seen it, dark and abandoned instead of bright and cheerful. Just how long had he been out for?

He entered another room, full of the same rotten decay. He sighed to himself. Exactly what was he doing? Miss Undertaker hadn't been very forthcoming with the details earlier, simply advising him on how to use his weapon (which he already knew, by the way, so he didn't understand the point of explaining that) and how by using it to hit bells he could unlock hidden doors and secret passageways (that was new to him; since when were there secrets like that around here?). Then she was gone and Bandit was left to his own devices.

He was a bit frustrated, he must admit. Why wouldn't she explain more to him? Unless she was unable to, or it was hard to put into words just how much the town and everyone had changed? She had mentioned something about how the folks here weren't too pleased with him for what he'd done last time...but what had that been? As hard as he wracked his brain he simply couldn't recall. All he could remember were the good times with his friends....Speaking of, he wondered where they were now, and how they were faring. Looking around at how unfriendly-looking everything was, he couldn't suppress a sliver of worry for his old gang. Hopefully they were all alright.

Barely withholding a sigh, he glanced around the room he was in. He paused, seeing a small silhouette laying on the ground to his right. It looked to be inanimate, and so he approached it without much caution. He was right: it was a bundle of cash.

Bandit frowned. Who would leave so much cash on the floor? He picked it up, and instinctively pocketed it. Oh well. It didn't seem that whoever dropped it would be returning for it anytime soon.

He turned back around and made his way through the room. About halfway through, he found another wad of cash. He picked it up, now even more confused. When he found the door to the next room, there was more cash.

Bandit continued into the next room, following a short haphazard trail of cash. It wasn't a clear trail by any means--just a pile here and a pile in that corner--but it seemed to be leading him somewhere. Sure enough, the trail stopped a few feet away from a small establishment that Bandit didn't recognize until he saw the lettering on the sign above the booth: BANKER.

Relief overwhelmed him. The Banker was still around! He must be, as his bank seemed to be in prime condition; unlike everything else, which was layered with grime and dust, the bank had been kept nearly spotless.

Bandit almost rushed forward, but that underlying layer of dread kept with him, an instinct that caution was the direct approach here. He didn't know what had happened, but he suspected he shouldn't make too much noise. Something told him that would result in attracting unwanted attention. Therefore, he settled for walking quickly to the little bank that usually housed his friend. Upon reaching it, he saw a little bell sitting on the counter. He decided against ringing it and instead tapped the countertop, urgently but just loud enough to be heard.

He heard an exclamation of surprise from underneath the counter, and a small thud. "Ouch! Blastedclumsy fool," muttered a familiar voice. Its owner rose up from where he had been crouched under the countertop, and round holed eyes stared at Bandit with surprise.

"B-Bandit!" the Banker cheered<strike>\--</strike>quietly, Bandit noted. He'd been correct with his earlier assessment, don't make too much noise. But he didn't let this detail deter him and offered his old friend a grin. "It's b-been ages," the Banker continued, giving him a worried look. "I was worried one of t-the stringless had gotten hold of you...ah, but obviously they were no match for our Showdown Bandit!"

"The stringless?" Bandit echoed. "Who are they? I haven't encountered anyone like that."

"Y-You haven't?" The Banker's eyes, if even possible, widened more. "Then count yourself lucky. Those savages are mindless brutes. Wh-why, just the other day they tried to cut off my strings. They're always trying to do that, mind you. It gets rather tiresome after a while."

"Is that why you were cowering under the counter?"

The Banker stuttered, but then gave Bandit a glare when the latter offered him a small smirk. "D-Don't you tease me!" the Banker admonished him. "If you'd met them you would do the same! Well, maybe _you_ wouldn't," he admitted more quietly. "But only because you're a fool."

"Same old Banker," Bandit said fondly. "You have such an odd way of expressing your worry for an old friend. It's like you can't stand the sight of me."

"Oh, pishposh." The Banker waved his hand dismissively. "You know I would never wish anything ill upon you, Bandit. You are one of my closest friends, in spite of our deviating interests. Now, what can I do you for? I assume you've come here to ask for a favor?"

"Not exactly," Bandit said, though now he could question his other friend about what had happened, seeing as Miss Undertaker had been of no help. But she was always the secretive sort. The Banker was much more openperhaps a bit too open, sometimes, if one must admitand was always willing to share whatever information he had with Bandit or any of their other friends.

"I do have some questions for you," Bandit admitted, and the Banker leaned forward ever so slightly, wringing his hands together in that eternal nervous habit of his. It was an unconscious thing of his, but it meant he was listening closely. Bandit continued, "Do you know what happened here? To the town, to the people? It's a funny thing, because I can't recall."

"Y-You don't..." The Banker blinked. "You don't kn-know what happened here? B-But Bandit, you were at the center of it all!"

"All of what?" Bandit asked. "Listen, I really don't remember."

"Then what do you remember?" asked the Banker, looking even more worried than usual.

"Well...it's odd, but I woke up in a box, and Miss Undertaker was there. She said something about..." Bandit squinted, struggling to remember. "I can't remember what, exactly, something about a "him"? I don't know what that means, though. Anyway, she led me through a few rooms and she refused to tell me about what had happened here. I don't know why. I mean, she's always been sort of mysterious but never to such a degree. She would ordinarily tell me unhesitatingly what had happened, when it comes to something this big and important....There's another thing," he added, almost hesitating to continue. "She mentioned that the townsfolk won't be happy to see me, after our last adventure. What exactly was that?"

The Banker was no longer looking him in the eye. Instead he was staring intensely at the bell, as though sorting out his thoughts. His hands wrung themselves faster.

After a minute, he spoke. "Bandit...the townsfolk are d-displeased with you because e-everything that happened here, i-i-it's, well." He sighed. "It's because of you."

Bandit stared. He couldn't have heard right. "Because of me? B-but I'd never do such a thing! I may be a bandit, but..."

"I-I know, I know how are you are," the Banker said, but he still wasn't looking at him. "You'd never do anything...intentional. Plus, s-so many of the little details are being kept under wraps. B-But the fact is, u-undeniably, that you are the cause of everything that has gone wrong here."

"Tell me what happened, then," he demanded.

"...I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Please, Bandit. Th-there's only so m-much I can..." The Banker gulped and looked around, as though he'd heard something. Bandit looked around too and listened carefully, but there was nothing around.

He turned back to the Banker, who squirmed under his steely gaze. Bandit sighed and calmed himself down so he wouldn't scare the other. If what the Banker said was true...no, it wasn't. It couldn't be. But if everyone else thought it was true, then getting worked up was the last thing he wanted. He needed as many people on his side as he could gather.

"You're wrong about my guilt," Bandit told him. "Whatever happened here, though I may not remember, I know I wasn't the cause of it. I wasn't. And I'll prove it to you. To everyone."

The Banker stuttered, as though he wanted to argue but couldn't quite wring up the courage. Finally he sighed. "If that's what you want to believe, th-then I won't stop you. But eventually, you will see."

Bandit didn't say anything to that. Instead he slipped his hand into a pocket and withdrew some cash. The Banker lit up at the sight of it, and his original role came to the forefront.

"Ah, you wish to save your progress?" He took the wad of bills.

Showdown nodded. It was a peculiar system their town led by. He wasn't sure who had come up with the odd rule, but in order to proceed beyond a certain point you had to have the cash, and be willing to fork it up for passage. The Banker had many stations throughout the place, all designed for that particular purpose. How he traveled in between them so quickly was something that Bandit could only fathom.

The Banker deposited the bills and grinned at Bandit. There was a tad of nervousness in that grin, however. "Be careful, friend," he warned him, his voice lower than ever. "Watch your back, and especially around those stringless folk."

"Right. Who are those fellows, anyway?" Bandit asked. He'd temporarily forgotten about them in light of the startling revelation that everyone here thought that he'd done something terrible, something he couldn't remember doing, and wouldn't do in the first place.

"They're...well, you'll see," the Banker replied elusively. "I-It's hard to describe in words," he added at Bandit's confused look. "Other than that they, well, they're l-lacking of their strings."

"That much was obvious," Bandit quipped.

The Banker gave him an exasperated look. "Just do watch out for them, al-alright? Make sure to avoid their line of sight. They love to attack those still attached to their strings. And don't ask me why!" he added, seeing as Bandit was about to ask precisely that. "I have no idea, and no one I've asked has the slightest clue, either. All you need to know is that they're dangerous and cannot be reasoned with. So avoid them as best as you can."

"I will try," Bandit promised him.

"Good." The Banker nodded at him. "Good luck to your travels, friend."

"Same to you, partner," Bandit said, tipping his hat to him. "I'm glad you're on my side, despite what you've told me."

The other shrugged. "You're one of the good ones. That's all the reason I need. Er, g-good luck proving everyone wrong."

Showdown knew he didn't mean those last words, but he appreciated the effort. He nodded. "Thanks. Well, I'll see you at your next station, then!"

He waved at the Banker, who waved in return, and only waited until he was out of earshot to mutter into his twitching fingers, "If you survive that long, that is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine the Banker as a nervous fellow by nature, but stern when it comes to Showdown and his antics. He's almost like a fatherly figure to the Bandit, always advising him to stay out of trouble (not that Showdown ever listens) and constantly scolding him afterwards. Also, he doesn't stutter too much except when he's especially nervous, but he always stutters less around Bandit, sometimes to the point of not stuttering at all, especially when being stern with him. I don't know if anyone else pictures their relationship like this, but that's my headcanon, and I think it's cute. ^_^


	4. The Stringless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guard your strings!

He always heard them first: the scrabbling of their feet, their nonsensical babbling, nothing more than whispered mutters. The first time he heard one of them, Bandit's curiosity got the better of him, and he peered around a corner without much caution to get a better look at what was making that sound.

What he saw appalled him. A featureless puppet, stripped bare and wandering aimlessly, mumbling to themselves. (He said "themselves" because he couldn't tell whether the puppet was supposed to be a fella or a lady.) Most alarming, however, was that when Bandit's gaze wandered higher above the puppet's head he saw

_They've got no strings!_

He supposed this must be one of those Stringless folks the Banker had warned him about, but even so, he couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. Everyone knew the importance of having strings attached to your person: they kept you sane, they kept you yourself. What had happened to this poor fellow that they had lost their strings? Had they done it to themselves? Or had someoneor some_thing_else?

Observing the puppet, Bandit frowned. The Banker had described the Stringless as brutish and to keep your distance. But there was nothing sinister about this puppet at all. They appeared lost, wandering in a small circle, never veering off of that invisible path. It was a sad sight, really. Perhaps the Banker's fear had gotten the best of him again, and caused his mind to exaggerate the nature of the Stringless. It wouldn't have been the first time: the Banker was a bit of a coward.

The puppet suddenly stopped and fell silent. Bandit started, as they were looking at him. It was strange: the puppet had no eyes, no features at all to behold, yet they seemed to be drilling their stare straight through him.

"Um, hello!" the Bandit greeted the featureless puppet, trying to conceal the awkwardness he felt. "My name is<strike></strike>"

He was interrupted by a loud screech and a blur of movement: the puppet had given a war cry and was now barreling towards him. Bandit yelped and dove out of the way. The featureless puppet swung their arms at where he had just been standing, then turned to face him<strike></strike>. It was a few seconds late; their reactions and movements were slow and clumsy, as though swimming through water. But their intent was clear. They shrieked again and dashed forward.

Again, Bandit dodged. He put up his hands in a placating manner. "Hang on, now, I don't wanna harm you." His words fell upon deaf ears. He wondered if the other puppet _could_ even hear him, or if they relied on sight alone; that was how they had detected him. His boots weren't exactly the best type to sneak around in.

The puppet continued to attack. Bandit was a bit slow on his mark, and when the other lashed out, they managed to land a blow. Bandit staggered back, vision going slightly blurry and a hand pressing against his head where he was hit. He knew he should fight back, but his conscious fought against it. They weren't in their right mind; they couldn't be. Otherwise they wouldn't be attacking like this, blindly and senselessly.

(And it wasn't because they hated him, because nothing that happened was his fault!)

His indecision nearly cost him. As Bandit was distracted, torn between fighting and reasoning (which had already proven fruitless), the featureless puppet took another swipe and took hold of one of Bandit's strings, the one connected to his left elbow. Panic stole through him. He tried pulling away, but the other puppet's grip was far stronger than he realized. They yanked, hard, and Bandit was flying backwards. He hit the floor hard and stars dotted his eyes. Something felt off. His arm...

He moved it, and it felt freer than usual. He sat up, still groaning from the pain, and when he looked to see the damage, the pit of his stomach coiled. One of his strings was missing. His gaze drifted to the other puppet, who was loosely clenching a piece of string, now useless. Horror, revulsion, and anger boiled within Bandit.

He stood up, wincing as his arm flopped at his side. How did the Stringless manage to move without their strings? It was impossible for him to move his single arm. He grabbed it with his other hand to keep it in place. Bandit sent the featureless puppet a silent glare, now understanding the Banker's words of caution to be true, not exaggerated. In fact, he could say they were understated. A part of him wanted to fight, to avenge the loss of his left arm, but Bandit knew how foolish that would be. He needed his arm repaired, and fast.

He turned and ran, hearing the other puppet give pursuit. Bandit found a door and passed through, slamming it shut behind him. Frantic scratching came through the wood, but apparently the Stringless were unable to open doors. A small blessing, Bandit reflected as he continued on.

Now whenever he heard one of the Stringless moaning and lurching about, he hid, and waited for them to pass. He would never admit it, even to himself, but a small, secret part of him feared these lost souls. Even once he got his arm repaired, he would be loathe to encounter one of them again.

And so he continued on like this, guarding his strings and avoiding enemies, meanwhile wondering where that old doctor was, if he was alright, and if he'd be willing to fix Bandit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the strings on Bandit, secrets are slowly beginning to unravel. This chapter was a bit of a filler, and so is the next one, but it's mostly to introduce Bandit to the new dangers of his town, and to introduce characters as well. And in a couple more chapters, more will be explored, so don't worry!  
Before I go, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's read this story and leaving kudos. I really appreciate it and it keeps me going! See you all next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I apologize if I got Miss Undertaker's first name wrong. Since there were no subtitles I had to listen to her speech a few times to get the dialogue right, and what I typed was what I heard. If I got it wrong, please let me know, I'd very much appreciate it and I'll fix it right away! ^^


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